Take Care of You
by all.out.carby
Summary: Carby short. You know me and my boredom. Try it out. ;) Chapter 2.
1. Take Care of You

His hands tangle my fingers within his and we sigh together. He opens the door ahead of me, allows me to walk inside. Our steps are soft, reflecting our silent attitudes.  
  
I know he's upset. The same frown he's had for hours now hasn't been altered. Pasted into his face; two eyes reflecting nothing of difference now.  
  
Apologizing with sorry upon sorry the entire night, just to let him now how awful I felt. And it wasn't just feeling bad to me; it was betraying the one I stand next to.  
  
He releases my hand. My eyes climb from the floor, eager to see his expression. I expect the same blank picture I've been threatened with all evening. But his eyes are cast down, deep into the mist between the floor and us. I can't see what he's thinking.  
  
I moan a heavy sigh, shrugging my coat off and slipping it to the sofa. My arms ache with every pain I have managed to drag out tonight. Eyes worn away at their sides call to me, making the sound of sleep an aspiration of mine. Everything taunts me as he wanders around the apartment, his feet treading softly. I don't know what he's looking for, what he's doing, what he's thinking.  
  
I contemplate each possible scenario that comes to me.  
  
He wants to leave me. For tonight, he wants out. I have pushed him over, and he thinks that I'm giving up on us. The last thing I would want to do right now. I could never act that way.  
  
I stare at him, hoping that he'll hear my unspoken explanation.  
  
I'm not giving up.  
  
However, he walks into another room. Sulking away without a glance over to where I stand. I sit instead, escaping into dull comfort of two couch cushions, my coat shaded over my knees. I glide one finger over the leather of it, pondering why we can't talk right now.  
  
His feet trudge again, the barren symbolization of it all getting to me. Every bleak step, filled with each feeling we're both sharing now hits me with force. I struggle to be the strong one here, wishing I could speak to him.  
  
Remarkably, as the strong one, I find it his job to talk first. I'm sure of it.  
  
The footsteps stop. My head tilts upward, eyes resting in sync with his. Across the living room he stands there in front of me. My distressing look sits with his in the air between us. We breathe together, waiting for one of us to move.  
  
He walks first, coming up to me and kneeling there, before the couch where I sit. His hands cover my arms where they've fallen over the material of my coat.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispers. Palms ride up my arms as I wait for more. I don't expect more to come, but he keeps. "It's just that."  
  
I volunteer. "I know."  
  
"I'm scared," he says, his hands on my shoulders now. "I need to be here, and all of these other things -"  
  
"No," I say, my head shaking slightly. "You don't need to take care of me."  
  
He bows his head and puts his lips to my hand, a tender kiss felt throughout my body.  
  
"I love you," my lips make. "And I'll take care of you."  
  
--  
  
Boredom. Its fun.  
  
manda 


	2. What Love Offers

I read it over the last chapter and knew that it would probably work better as a stand alone. My one reason for this was that nothing was explained in the chapter, there was a problem that wasn't really established. When done correctly, it's an amazing ability for a writer. I doubt I stabbed that, but I hope I came close. I thought about adding more chapters then because - you guessed it - it's about two in the morning. Honestly, I don't know why I choose to write this late. In fact, I think it would be more inspirational if I were suddenly motivated in another way, rather than waking up and scribbling lyrics and stories onto my bedroom wall. But I'm not, and in some ways that disappoints me. But I won't complain, I guess. ;) Only about 5 chapters to this bit, 500 words - give or take - each.  
  
--  
  
For the first time between the two of us, he seeks my comfort. He gathers toward me, rather than protecting me.  
  
He cries into the crook of my neck. Not so audibly, and only enough to let me know that he's been hurting for so long. My hands cover the back of his head, at the tail of his hair. The feeling is remarkable right now. I've never seen him this way.  
  
It makes me want to cure him. Treat every scar he's received in the past few days.  
  
My fingers analyze his feathered locks gingerly, letting my soothing instinct toward him flow evenly. He has climbed to the couch, sitting beside to me. His body barely "sits" though, as he edges closer. His palms rest into my hips, holding onto me.  
  
I hold my lips against his temple for just a while. He breaks down, silently. I feel those hidden tears seep from his eyes and soak into my skin. A rare instance when one sneaks down further, behind the collar of my shirt. And I hug him tighter.  
  
"Why do you even stay?"  
  
These words strike me. Hit me like I knew they were coming, almost.  
  
"Because you've stayed."  
  
I think that's all it takes for tonight. Particularly because I don't want him to talk. I see the way he walks and I hear every word he speaks. With this I know he wants my arms for tonight, and my love and that's it. All he wants tonight is what love offers.  
  
I know that its all I can give him. It's all I'm able of.  
  
He looks up at me, eyes red and moist. I lean to him, lift my face to his and kiss him. I don't expect him to respond, but he does. Granted, not enthusiastically. But this evening isn't for lust anyway.  
  
He bows his head and I hold him again.  
  
He pulls away, running a finger along the ring of my shirt. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Shh," I assure him. "You don't need to be sorry."  
  
"But I am, Abby." He shakes his shoulders, in a shivering imposter's way, then sighs harshly. "You need me now, and I'm - "  
  
"Don't say things like that." I cup his face in my hands, his tears themselves resting in my palms. "Don't say that. I want to be here for you."  
  
He rubs the bridge of his nose aggressively, steering away future tears. We watch each other for a while, until his look is torn away by the phone's ring. It shatters everything between us and I stand, relenting.  
  
"Hello?" I ask, only aware that my voice is so sympathetic when I pick up.  
  
As I engage in further conversation, my mind becomes slightly idle, fixed on the softened image of my best friend-my boyfriend, my lover-wandering around the room without a destination. He stops to see me looking at him, and our eyes come to a halt.  
  
I set the phone back on its hook after a quick good-bye, and guide him closer to me. We clasp our hands together in one steadfast, dedicated motion and maneuver in which we've tied ourselves together for the night.  
  
"Dr. Weaver wishes you the best," I whisper as we enter our bedroom. He only nods and peels the comforter from the bed, slips inside and shuts his eyes. I change quickly, and join him. Falling into our pillows, side by side. 


End file.
